


Fascinating New Thing

by WednesdayGilfillian



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: 90's Music, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - College/University, College romance, F/F, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Girl Band, Self-Discovery, Socially Awkward Erin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:18:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9539468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdayGilfillian/pseuds/WednesdayGilfillian
Summary: Erin is a college junior, who grew up shy and sheltered. Holtzmann's the lead singer in a college band.Erin wants to broaden her horizons.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is brought to you by 90's music and dancing in the kitchen. 
> 
> I'm thinking it'll be a two/three parter...? (Let's see!)

She’s a few feet away from the door, and she could still walk straight on past it if she chose. Could pretend she had never intended to go inside, and was just on her way to the library. Except these aren’t her going-to-the-library clothes. Well, they’re not _much_ different – most of Erin’s outfits could be classed as library-clothes – but she’s branching out a little bit tonight. Because it’s about time.

It’s her third year at college, and so far she’s spent so much of it alone. In her dorm room, in the library, in the lecture halls. She would _try_ to be social, but it never seemed to quite work, and that was always so excruciating. There was obviously something wrong with _her_ – her clothes, her interests, her stilted conversation. But tonight, she is going to try again.

It won’t even matter if she doesn’t meet anybody, or have a proper conversation. All she wants is to broaden her world-view. To step out of the library, into the real, noisy world – to see bold, bright people, and not want to hide from them. To hear music that her parents would most definitely not approve of.

So when the bouncer looks up, she tries for a smile and shows her ID. He nods – looking supremely bored to be guarding a small college bar – and Erin descends the dark stairs. The noise reverberates, even through the heavy doors that she has yet to open, and she wonders whether she should have brought ear plugs. But she’s already pushing at the door, and then she’s in.

It’s a lot like the college bars she’s seen in movies. It’s a bit claustrophobic, low-ceilinged and grungy, and packed with students at varying distances from sobriety. The floor beneath her feet is sticky, and, yes, it’s loud.

For two seconds she panics, thinking this has been a terrible mistake – but worse than staying would be turning right around and just leaving. So she pushes her way through the crowd to the bar, finding reassurance in its solidity. When the barman asks, she orders a lemon lime & bitters.

Seconds keep passing, and as they do, Erin finds herself steadier in her resolve. She wanted this, and now she’s here, and so far she’s coping. She _is_ getting a few looks, because on reflection that cardigan was _not_ the best choice, but hey, at least no one knows her.

And then a new band steps up to play their set. She only notices when they start to play, a chord progression that’s warm and fast and sweet, and Erin looks up, foot already tapping on the sticky floor.

 _Oh, I can’t take another heartache_  
_Though you say you’re my friend_  
_I’m at my wits end_

The girl who’s singing…cannot possibly be real. She’s all lipstick and leather jacket and wild blonde hair, and she sings like an angel, if angels ever sang this sort of music. She’s tossing her head as she sings and she’s cradling the mic, and by God, when has Erin _ever_ seen _anything_ more…

By the time she remembers the drink in her hand, the ice in her soda has melted.

She stands there for the whole set, not trying to dance but applauding each song as loud as she dares. The band are well-received, and when they finish the wild-haired blonde is glowing.  
“Thank you! Give it up for Jade, Evie, Megs – and I’m Holtzmann – and we are _Marie Curious_!”

Erin claps till her hands sting, committing that name to memory by rote.  
_Holtzmann. Holtzmann. Holtzmann._

\--

It’s the next Friday night, and Erin’s back again – just in case _Marie Curious_ are too. She thinks she might be closer to right with her outfit, this time. And thank the gods of college bars, she’s in luck.

Holtzmann swaggers onto the stage – not showy, really, it seems like that’s just who she is – and Erin feels her stomach flip. She’s got the same hair, but tonight’s a hot night so there’s no leather jacket; she’s in a crop-top and jeans and Erin can’t quite tear her eyes away. There’s an ache in her body that at some point she’s going to have to acknowledge.

Their set’s slightly different, some repeats from last week, but Erin would have hung on every line regardless. She feels so alive, she even chats with the barman. She’s just turning away, actually grinning, when her shoulder connects with somebody, and the drink tilts in their hand.

A second later, Erin’s shirt is dripping, and Holtzmann is staring, aghast.  
“Shit! Sorry! Oh, God, that was my fault.”  
Erin’s in shock. “Uh, it’s okay…”  
“It’s not okay; that shirt was cute.”  
She was already blushing, but as Holtzmann’s eyes are assessing the damage it hits her that the polka-dot blouse has gone sheer, revealing the black lace bra beneath. (It had seemed such a small, safe step, to start dressing more daringly only where no one could see…)

A few people round them are laughing awkward laughs, and Holtzmann’s bandmates are giving her a slow clap, but to her credit she seems concerned only for Erin.  
“I’m so sorry. Come with me, I’ve got something you can wear.”  
“Oh, um-”  
But Holtzmann grabs her by the hand, and she’s being pulled out the back.

It’s as much a mess backstage as any student place, but Erin feels like she’s been granted VIP access. Obviously not under ideal conditions…

Still apologising, Holtzmann bends over a pile of cases, and when she stands back upright she’s holding out a leather jacket. Hers. The one she had been wearing the other night.

Erin tries to demur, but the wild blonde presses it into her hands.  
“Seriously, it’s the least I can do. And hey, everyone looks good in a leather jacket.”  
She _winks_ , and Erin’s brain very briefly short-circuits.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to…”  
Holtzmann sidles out of the room, leaving Erin alone and damp, the sticky shirt clinging to her torso.  
_Her eyes are very blue_ , she thinks as she unbuttons her blouse, as though _that’s_ the revelation. _And up close she’s so…still…and yet so vibrant._

Erin zips up the leather jacket over her bra – making sure it’s zipped high so she’s not showing off any cleavage. Showing her midriff, however, can’t really be helped – it’s a cropped jacket anyway, and Holtzmann’s quite petite. Two weeks ago this would have been more than enough to send her into a panic – but she’s convinced this is some kind of alternate universe anyway. This isn’t what happens to her, not to Erin Gilbert. But in the meantime, she can play along.

She steps back out into the bar a few minutes later, and spots Holtzmann talking with her friends. She’s not sure whether to approach, but then Holtzmann catches sight of her, blinks, and comes sauntering across the room. Erin is sure she’s already blushing.  
“Hey, I was right – it really suits you.”  
Definitely blushing.  
“Let me buy you a drink? Promise I’ll keep it in the cup this time.”  
Erin can’t say no to that smirk – and why on earth would she want to?

Holtzmann barely has time to get their drinks before she has to go back onstage; _Marie Curious_ are teaming up for one final song with another band. She says “I’ll be back” and runs up onstage, shining the second the lights hit her. Erin allows herself a sigh.

_I’m surprised that you’ve never been told before  
That you’re lovely, and you’re perfect, and that somebody wants you_

When they finish, the bar slowly empties, and Holtzmann has to help pack up. Erin is beginning to feel forgotten and embarrassed when the singer comes racing up, a little out of breath.  
“Sorry, had to help. Didn’t forget you,” she promises, and Erin smiles.

“So, I figure it’s best if you wear that jacket home. How ‘bout I give you my number, and you can get it back to me some other time?”  
Erin blinks – she’d almost forgotten that she was wearing Holtzmann’s jacket. She manages to smile and nod her assent, and Holtzmann starts scrawling her number on the back of the set list. She carries on speaking all the while.

“Actually, we’ve got a gig lined up in town – though it’s still a bit up in the air – so maybe you could give it back to me there. Not that we’re like, desperate for an audience,” she laughs awkwardly. “But yeah, give me a call and we’ll sort something out. By the way – sorry – what’s your name?”  
“Erin.”  
“Erin…”  
Holtzmann’s eyes crinkle when she smiles.  
“Well, it’s great to meet you, Erin – only sorry I didn’t make a better first impression.”

Erin doesn’t mention that she’d seen Holtzmann before. She doesn’t admit that on that first impression Holtzmann had left her breathless. She just takes the piece of paper from her chipped-nail-polish fingers, and offers a shy smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:  
> [Cruel To Be Kind - Letters to Cleo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHRJSzhoG_Y)  
> [F.N.T - Semisonic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SYmdoaB71Do)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments & kudos, you guys! This is a bit different from my usual writing style, so feedback is very much appreciated.
> 
> Looks like this is going to be in three parts - here's the second installment!

Holtzmann’s jacket hangs on the back of Erin’s desk chair for the following week. She gets up the courage to call her late-ish on Wednesday.

“Yello, this is Holtzmann.”  
“Hi. It’s Erin. The one who – I’ve got your jacket.”  
“ _Erin_ , heyy! How are things?”

The gig Holtzmann had mentioned is going ahead, Friday night in town. Erin notes down the name of the bar – nowhere she’s been, unsurprisingly – and promises to meet Holtzmann after the show.

\--

She does her best not to arrive too early, though she’s been thinking about tonight all day. This place is certainly a step up from the grungy student bar; it’s not large, but the furniture’s carelessly chic, and Erin likes it immediately.

 _Marie Curious_ are presumably out the back getting ready, and Erin’s fine with that. It gives her some time to orientate herself; and she wouldn’t have wanted to get in their way, either.

They are opening for another, more well-established band, and come out onto the stage looking slightly nervous. But their first number goes well, and then they hit their stride, and Holtzmann is _electric_.

It makes Erin brave, makes her push to the front of the crowd. She doesn’t dance as such, but moves in rhythm, feeling the music pulse through her body. Holtzmann fills up her field of vision.

_I’ll shine up my old brown shoes  
I’ll put on a brand new shirt_

She tugs at her collar and grins wickedly into the mic, and Erin knows she is lost.

_I’ll get home early from work  
If you say that you love me_

She finds their set disappointingly short, but then that’s what opening means, she supposes. There’s a jolt in her stomach when she sees them, making their way together towards the bar. For a moment she wonders if she should play it cool – but no, she’s got a jacket to return.

Holtzmann turns when Erin taps on her shoulder.  
“Hey, Erin! You made it! Whadya think?”  
“You guys are…fantastic.”  
The rest of _Marie Curious_ are regarding her with interest. One of them, a dark-haired girl, is smirking.

“Oh, hey, you brought my jacket. Thanks.”  
The brunette whistles, and Holtzmann rolls her eyes.  
“Erin, this is Evie, Jade, and Megs.”  
“Hi…”  
“We’re just about to head off somewhere a bit quieter,” Holtzmann explains, slinging the jacket over her bare shoulder. “Wanna come along?”

It’s offered so casually, and of course the others won’t care either way – but Holtzmann seems so genuine in her request. About half of Erin wants to run away.  
“Sure.”

Walking along between Megs and Holtzmann is sort of an out-of-body experience. Erin’s so aware of how she must look, that she is being seen in their company. Holtzmann walks with a swagger, one hand in her pocket, the other waving in the air as she explains something to Erin enthusiastically. It’s unfamiliar, this level of attention.

The place they’re headed is small and dimly-lit. They take a booth, and Holtzmann slides in next to Erin. Their hips touch. The band are clearly a well-oiled social machine; there’s chat and banter and everyone has their say. And Holtzmann makes sure Erin’s not neglected.

“We’re all students, in case you hadn’t guessed,” she explains, grinning across at her guest. “Music theory is Evie’s thing, but I’m gonna major in Physics.”

Erin nearly chokes on her drink.  
_Oh God, she’s perfect. How does she even exist?_

“ _I_ major in Physics,” Erin manages, and the singer’s eyes light up. She presses Erin for details about the program and she happily obliges, until Jade begs them both to stop.

“Jade’s never set foot in the library,” Megs explains, chuckling. “As opposed to _Holtzmann_ …”  
“What can I say? I’ve got a thing for librarians.”  
She winks, and the others cackle – and Erin’s mind is suddenly going a mile a minute.  
_Does that mean she’s…? God, is she…?_

There’s no doubt, at least, about Evie and Jade. As the night wears on they get closer and closer, and Erin hopes to God she isn’t staring. It’s just that they’re so open and easy, and it makes her wonder if maybe all sorts of things could be possible.

She would normally have been in bed hours ago – or, at least, in her pajamas reading a book – but she must be running on adrenaline or endorphins or maybe just the very sight of Holtzmann. When they all stand up to leave, she’s almost disappointed.

Until Holtzmann says she’ll walk her home.

\--

They’re standing on the front steps, and thankfully no one else is coming or going. Erin’s never got back to her dorm this late.

“Swanky place,” says Holtzmann, looking up at the façade.  
“It’s nice,” Erin agrees, over the pounding in her ears.  
“So, uh, it was nice having you out with us tonight.”  
“Thanks for inviting me. And for the loan of the jacket.”  
“Pshaw, that was nothing. Least I could do.”

Holtzmann’s barely a step away, and she’s looking at Erin as though she’s trying to work her out. As though she’s an interesting, mildly challenging equation. Suddenly, Erin _needs_ to look down at her feet.

And when she looks up, Holtzmann’s expression is sunny again. Casual.  
“Well, g’night, Erin,” she smiles, giving a two-finger salute and turning to saunter away. Erin cannot help but watch her go.

And she wonders if she’s pathetic, if she’s just deluding herself. But there’s saying goodnight and there’s saying goodnight, and she knows which one that felt like.

\--

It’s late afternoon, and sun is streaming in through Erin’s window. It feels like a Sunday – it isn’t, but it might as well be. She’s lounging round in a plaid shirt, she’s got music up loud, and she just painted her toenails a daring red. Maybe this could be who she is, now.

She gets up from her bed, and dances across the room to tidy her desk (because, well, she is still Erin Gilbert). She’s piling books in time to the beat and her limbs feel loose and free.

She’s getting into it, eyes closed and mouthing along with lyrics, when there’s a knock at the door – and the knock pushes the door from ajar to open. Holtzmann is standing in the doorway, smiling a crooked smile.

“Hey.”  
Erin’s gone scarlet. “Hi…I was just, um, tidying.”  
“Sorry to interrupt. Though I have to say, it looks pretty neat already.”  
“You’re not interrupting. Come in.”  
Holtzmann steps over the threshold, smiling around the room with polite interest.  
“Just thought I’d swing by – I was in the area. Actually, I’ve got something for you.”

She pulls a cassette tape from her back pocket, holds it out. It doesn’t have a case, and the label’s been scrawled on in ballpoint.

“Those bands we were talking about, the other night? I, uh, made you a mix tape.”  
Holtzmann seems a little shy and wrongfooted – but that’s nothing to what Erin is feeling. Holtzmann is here, in her room, and has brought her a _gift_.

“Thank you…”  
She can’t think what else to say, so turns to place the cassette on top of her stereo.  
“Can I offer you…um…a cup of tea?”  
It’s all she has on hand, and it seems so wildly inappropriate, but the other girl grins her thanks and takes a seat. She sits kind of sprawled, fitting in effortlessly even in this very un-Holtzmann-like space.

Also she’s wearing a tank top and it’s…it’s very…

Erin’s hands aren’t quite steady, but she doesn’t spill the tea.

They sit in the sun and drink from matching mugs, and when Holtzmann goes to leave she tells Erin about another upcoming gig.  
“I might see you there?”

\--

After that, Erin is basically part of their group – at least when they’re together as _Marie Curious_. And when they’re not…well, Holtzmann keeps dropping round to see her.

Today, she wants to borrow a Physics book, and Erin’s sitting on her bed recommending titles. Holtzmann’s running a finger along the spines on the shelf, when with a cold shock Erin remembers her latest purchase. Which she didn’t think to hide. Because she’s still used to thinking of her room as a place that no one else would have any interest in.

She’s frozen, and sure enough Holtzmann’s finger stills for a moment on one particular spine.

_An Anthology of Lesbian Poetry_

She’s mortified – although on some level she knows she needn’t be. For all Holtzmann knows, she’s studying literature.  
(She is not studying literature.)

Holtzmann looks over her shoulder, her expression interested but mild. There’s no trace of mockery in her eyes.  
“You’re into poetry?”

_Not “You’re into women?” Oh God, does that mean I’ve been totally obvious?_

“S-sort of,” she stammers, averting her eyes to pick at an imaginary loose thread. “I mean, I could never write any, but I do appreciate…”  
“Cool,” Holtzmann nods, as though that’s totally fine. And the moment passes.

It’s a small thing, but when she leaves she says “See ya, Er,” – and that careless intimacy does something to Erin’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But seriously, can we pay Kate McKinnon to form and lead a 90's-style girl band?
> 
> Songs:  
> [I Want You to Want Me - Letters to Cleo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ouGtW_5d6A)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you know how I said this was going to be a three-parter? I lied. I'm having too much fun, so I'm gonna carry it on a *little* longer.
> 
> Also, FYI, I've gone back and added links to the songs that feature in each chapter - because it occurs to me that I'm old and maybe you all haven't heard them. (And as for my song *choices*...hey, don't judge. I am unapologetic 90's trash.)
> 
> Alllso...I hope you like this chapter? ;)

Erin’s not neglecting her studies – she’s probably not even _capable_ of that. But that thing they call work-life balance, well, she’s finally got an idea what it means.

Jade has an assignment due, and between Erin and Holtzmann she’s finally convinced to step into the library. Erin shows Jade how to use the catalogue, and pick out some good scholarly sources. Holtzmann’s waiting for them at a desk, and for an hour they study in companionable silence.

Holtzmann passes notes; sometimes with actual questions, mostly with terrible science puns.

The corners of Erin’s mouth ache from smiling.

\--

It’s late afternoon, classes are over, and Erin just bumped into Holtzmann on campus. (That is, she recognised her across the quad, tapped her on the shoulder, and nearly got taken out by a guitar case when Holtzmann spun around.)

Now they’re sitting on the steps of the Music Department, as the day winds down and campus slowly empties. Erin doesn’t care if she’s late for dinner.

“I didn’t realize you played guitar as well.”  
“That’s how I got into singing. But Evie’s the real pro. Actually-” she pops the clasps on her guitar case, “we’ve got a different kind of job coming up. Evie’s brother’s friend wants to propose to his girlfriend with music, so we’re gonna record a cover of her favourite song.”  
Erin smiles, and she continues, “And he’s paying us in beer – so it’s win-win all round.”  
Holtzmann’s smile broadens as Erin laughs.

“What’s the song?”  
The blonde suddenly looks sheepish. “It’s cornier than our usual stuff… That ‘Kiss Me’ song, the one from _Dawson’s Creek_?”  
“Oh, I like that song,” Erin says, sincerely, hoping that’ll stop her friend looking ashamed.  
“I sorta do too…” Holtzmann admits. Then, “Don’t ever tell Megs I said that!”  
Erin laughs, and crosses her heart. “I won’t, I promise.”

When Erin asks, Holtzmann sneaks her a copy of their recording. And she will _never_ admit how many times she plays it on repeat – eyes closed, revelling in Holtzmann’s voice.

\--

Jade got a passable grade on her project, and Holtzmann has (of course) been getting all A’s, so everyone feels they’ve earned a night on the town. Megs knows someone who knows someone who can guarantee them entry to a…particular type of bar.

It’s assumed by now that Erin’s invited everywhere they go; but this is the only time she’s really had to think. _Can_ she go? Does she _want_ to? The old Erin never would’ve…but she’s not the old Erin anymore. Maybe this is just the natural progression of the journey she’s started to take.

At the door, Holtzmann shoots her a solicitous glance. She seems to sense that this isn’t something Erin’s done before. “You okay with this?”  
Erin manages a nervous smile, and the blonde squeezes her elbow in reassurance.  
“Let’s be honest, Er – we’re _all_ in over our heads.”

Holtzmann doesn’t _look_ out of her depth, though. She’s a knockout in dark lipstick and a tank top, and Erin’s finding it hard to know where to put her eyes. She hopes _she_ looks alright.

They’re in before Erin knows it, and it’s an assault on her senses. There’s colored lights and darkness and pounding music, and on the floor a press of curving bodies. Her eyes are wide.

The others are excited, and rush to the bar to drink and scheme. She’s glad of the moment to get her bearings and catch her breath. It’s just occurred to her that she doesn’t know what she’ll do if she has to watch Holtzmann with another girl. This may have been a terrible idea.

Holtzmann’s staying close by her elbow – until the song changes, and all the girls want to dance.  
“Come on, Erin.”  
But she can’t, even though they’d just be dancing in a group. Her nerves are too taut and Holtzmann is too _breathtaking_ and she’d be awkward, and so she stays on her barstool.  
“I’ll…sit this one out. Go on, though.”  
Holtzmann looks concerned – dare she hope, _disappointed_? – but Megs and Evie are pulling on her arm, so she shoots a grin and promises “Be right back.”

The song _is_ a good one, and Erin half wishes she had joined them. But from this safe distance, she can watch. She’s relieved to see that Holtzmann’s not dancing with anyone in particular. But she _is_ dancing. She’s swaying her hips and mouthing the lyrics, pale arms raised above her head. She looks so ecstatic and _alive_. Her tank top’s riding up as she moves to the beat, and strands of blonde hair are falling loose. Erin’s face is hot, but she can’t look away.

“Haven’t seen you here before…”  
Erin hadn’t noticed her approach, but there’s a dark-haired woman at her side. She’s perhaps two years older than Erin, barely more.  
“No, I…this is my first time here.”  
The woman slips off her stool, leaning casually against the bar. Leaning towards Erin.  
“And how are you finding it?”  
This, Erin can tell, is flirtatious. She, Erin Gilbert, is being hit on. But if she feels anything, she feels unease and panic.

It’s not that this woman’s not pretty. It’s that she’s not Holtzmann.

And what if Holtzmann sees them standing so close, and thinks this is what Erin wants?

“Um,” she manages, “it’s nice.”  
She casts her eyes down into her drink, feeling desperation rise within her. What do you _do_ in this situation? How do you…

“Er, babe, why aren’t you _dancing_?”  
It’s Holtzmann. Her arm is suddenly round Erin’s shoulders. Before Erin can speak, she’s being tugged gently off the barstool by one hand.  
“ ’scuse us,” Holtzmann offers by way of apology, though she doesn’t actually seem very sorry. The dark-haired woman stares after them.

Erin’s staring too – at Holtzmann, the miracle, who has not yet let go of her hand.  
“You didn’t look comfortable; thought I’d intervene.”  
“Thanks…”

They’ve reached the dance floor now, and Holtzmann glances back past her, as though checking whether that woman’s eyes are still on them. Then she slips her arms round Erin’s waist.

“This okay?”  
Erin’s mouth has gone completely dry. She can only nod.

Her hands had to go somewhere, and they’ve landed on Holtzmann’s shoulders – Holtzmann’s _bare shoulders_. She can’t think.

Technically, they’re dancing. They’re close, but far enough apart to move, and Holtzmann’s hips are swaying to the beat. Erin’s trying to mirror her actions. Trying to breathe.

They’re far enough apart to see each other, and there’s light and darkness and music and Holtzmann, and Erin is nothing but _want_. It has to be painfully obvious.

 _Let’s make a move_  
_Let’s leave this world behind_  
_I know you approve_  
_By the look in your eyes_

A strand of Erin’s hair is stuck to her lipstick, but she can’t fix it without taking her hands from Holtzmann’s skin. Holtzmann takes care of it for her – fingers trailing Erin’s jawline as she withdraws.

Any second now, Erin’s going to spontaneously combust.

And Holtzmann must have noticed the hitch of her breath because her eyes have fallen to Erin’s lips and _oh my God oh my God oh my God_

Holtzmann kisses her.

And maybe she didn’t think it would happen like this – on those few nights when she dared to think it might happen – but this, no, this is _perfect_. Holtzmann’s lips are so _soft_ and her senses are reeling but she’s anchored by the arms around her waist.

They break apart slowly, and when Erin can bring herself to open her eyes she finds Holtzmann looking at her with a hopeful little smile. Breathlessly, she smiles back.

The blonde leans close to talk over the music; her breath is hot against Erin’s ear.  
“You wanna get out of here? I’ll walk you home.”  
Erin nods, and lets herself be pulled towards the door.

In the cool air, under streetlamps, they walk hand in hand. Erin tries to comprehend this new reality, its essential facts: Holtzmann has kissed her. Holtzmann is walking her home, where, perhaps, she might kiss her again.

“So, uh, do you wanna have dinner with me tomorrow night? And by dinner I _do_ mean burgers at the Flying Squid.”  
Erin’s smile is soft, and incandescent. “That sounds perfect, Holtzmann.”  
Holtzmann grins, laughs breathily, squeezes her hand. Then adds, “Ya know, you can call me Jillian. Or Holtz. Or Jill.”

Erin already knew her full name – she’d once stolen a peek at her Student ID – but being granted use of it is an intimacy, an honour. They walk in silence for another few moments, till Holtzmann glances across at her again.

“That dress, by the way, is, uh…yeah.”  
Erin cannot keep the smile from her face.

\--

They step into Erin’s room and pull the door to, just enough to gain a little privacy.

Erin doesn’t know what to say, and maybe Holtzmann doesn’t either, because she gives an awkward chuckle and takes a breath.  
“So, um, I’m really happy about…this.”  
She waves a hand back and forth between them.  
“Me too,” says Erin, quickly, and she sounds breathless.  
“Cool. So, I’ll pick you up around 5 tomorrow for dinner?”  
“Great.”

And then there seems to be less oxygen in the room because Holtzmann’s leaning towards her again, eyes on her mouth.  
“Can I…kiss you again?”  
“Mm.”

Erin’s fractionally more prepared this time, but it still makes her breath hitch. She’s _not_ prepared for a brief, teasing taste of Holtzmann’s tongue – or for the jolt it causes in her lower body. She gives a soft groan, and Holtzmann gasps to hear it, and the phrase ‘one thing led to another’ suddenly makes sense. But it can’t, not tonight. (Erin’s heart just couldn’t take it.)

They trail off with a string of little kisses, each one supposed to be the last. One of them is going to have to pull away…but it’s not going to be Erin. This is new for her, and desire is making her helpless.

Eventually, Holtzmann breaks the kiss – and Erin sees her cheeks are flushed, her breath is short.

“Ha, right, I was, uh, going, wasn’t I? Right…”  
Sheepishly she tugs her jacket straight, and the idea that she’s half as affected as Erin is just…

“Night, Jill.”  
“G’night, gorgeous.”

\--

Erin barely sleeps a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the Flying Squid is a popular student eatery in *my* university town.
> 
> Songs:  
> [Kiss Me - Sixpence None The Richer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8N-qO3sPMjc)  
> [Murder On The Dance Floor - Sophie Ellis-Bextor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xn_hRh8AGNk)  
> [Take Me Home - Sophie Ellis-Bextor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H6gLOmjP5GY)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm so sorry for the lapse in updates - it's been a busy month. But I'm back, and as usual, I bring nothing but absolute fluff.

Erin wakes, the next morning, in a groggy-yet-blissful daze; the result of having spent the night slipping in and out of sleep, occasionally muffling a squeal in her pillow. She _knows_ she’s being ridiculous, but every time the reality of last night hits her…

She gets up when the sun is really streaming in her window, and potters around her room wearing PJs and a stupid, moonstruck smile. There’s nothing much to do until the evening. Till Holtzmann comes to pick her up, for dinner.

On second thought, there’s plenty to do. What on earth is she going to _wear_?

\--

Erin is a jittery mess, by five o’clock. A fairly cute jittery mess, she hopes…but even so.

There’s a knock at the door, and Erin’s nerves leap. Smoothing down her outfit once more, she goes to answer it.

Holtzmann is leaning in the doorway, hands thrust in her pockets. She’s smiling in a way that makes Erin feel warm in the cheeks – and she can’t help the way she instantly smiles back.

“Hey.”  
“Hi…”  
“Ready to go?”

There’s a few moments’ almost-awkward silence as they set off down the street – it _is_ different, here, in daylight – but then Holtzmann clears her throat, and grins across at her.

“So, it seems like the other girls had a good night. Jade and Evie woke up covered in body glitter, for reasons unknown, and Megs was artfully vague about where exactly she spent the night…so I think it’s safe to say we all had a good time.”

Erin laughs, and keeps on smiling as they walk, feeling the unspoken in the air between them.

_And then there’s us… There’s what happened between us, last night…_

The Flying Squid is a quintessential student dive – mismatched wooden tables, menu board written in chalk, walls covered in an eclectic array of posters. They order at the counter, and take a seat at a table in the corner. Erin isn’t exactly _calm_ , yet…but the tension is sort of exhilarating. Holtzmann smiles across at her.

“Have you seen the napkin-art?”  
Holtz points to a wall pinned up with various diners’ attempts at art, sketched on paper napkins. There’s a definite variance in the relative levels of skill…but it’s all in good humour. Erin grins.   
“I should have a go, one of these days,” Holtz decides, stretching her fingers as though they itch for a pen.  
“What would you draw?”  
“Well, I could go the obvious route and mock up a poster for _Marie Curious_ …or I could draw Marie Curie herself.”  
“That _is_ who the band was named for, right?”  
For a moment Erin worries that this is a stupid question, till Holtz shoots her a grin.  
“I knew that wouldn’t have gone over your head.”

While they wait for their burgers, Holtz sketches a portrait of Curie on her napkin – and it quickly morphs into a campaign poster, ‘Marie Curie for President’.   
“Isn’t she a little bit too…dead…to run for President?” Erin asks, toying with the straw in her drink. “That _is_ my only objection,” she adds, hurriedly.  
Holtzmann waves a hand indifferently, as though this is a minor inconvenience. As Erin watches, she alters the title to read ‘Undead Marie Curie for President’. Erin snorts.

“Heeey,” she looks up all of a sudden, eyes bright. “I could do a series, of Undead Female Presidents. A different one each time. That is,” she qualifies, with a self-effacing smile, “if you _want_ to have dinner with me again.”  
The corners of Erin’s mouth are tugged irresistibly upwards, and she knows she’s blushing.  
“What do _you_ think?”

Their food arrives before Erin can get too much more flustered, and over their meals they discuss ideal undead presidential candidates, and which professors they most desperately want to befriend, and where the best places are to eat in town. (Erin is giddy from the implication that there will be more dates.)

They walk slowly back to Erin’s dorm, and Holtzmann comes in for a cup of tea. She insists on helping, and Erin doesn’t quite realize the ulterior motive till Holtz gently pulls the mugs from her hands and links their fingers together.

“So, uh…I really like you.”   
“That’s, um…very mutual.”  
Holtzmann gives a breathy laugh. And then she kisses her.

And Erin’s not sure she’ll ever get used to this. Not when Jillian’s kisses can make her temperature rise in an instant. Not when her thumbs brush against Erin’s like that, soft and encouraging. And when they break apart they’re both a little flushed.

“ _Really_ like you,” Holtzmann reiterates, the words tumbling out on a breath.

\--

No one in _Marie Curious_ seems remotely surprised by the Erin-and-Holtzmann development. The first time they all hang out together again, Erin’s self-conscious and nervous, worried the dynamic will have changed – until Jade walks straight up to her and holds one hand up for a high-five.

“Uh, what?”  
“Duh, Erin, gimme five! C’mon,” Jade looks pointedly between her two friends, “I spent like an hour in the library with you two. Kinda saw this coming.”  
Blushing furiously, but also secretly delighted, Erin high-fives her while Holtzmann looks on, smirking.

At a gig, a few evenings later, Evie is introducing everyone to her older brother.  
“…and this is Holtzmann’s girl, Erin.”

It’s difficult to say which of the two glows brighter.

\--

“Doing anything on Sunday?” Holtz enquires, one afternoon.  
“Not particularly, why?”  
“I’m doing this volunteering thing at an anti-food-waste charity, called WasteNot. Basically they take donations of food that would otherwise have been thrown out, from grocery stores and bakeries and stuff, and redistribute it. I wait in the stock room for deliveries, and help unload and sort them. And I could always use a lovely assistant…”

Erin chuckles, flustered both by the compliment and by this further proof that Jillian Holtzmann is absolutely perfect. Jill misinterprets her lack of response, quickly adding, “Totally no pressure, though. You’re a junior, you’ve probably got…stuff.”  
“No, no, I’d like to,” Erin assures her. “Count me in.”

WasteNot turns out to be a very welcoming environment, managed haphazardly by a rotating crew of good Samaritans. Holtz introduces Erin to that day’s team, and then they take up their places in the stock room.   
“Kev and I’ll do the heavy lifting, and you can read the scales and do the math – how about that, sweet cheeks?”  
It takes so very little to get Erin flustered. “Sounds good.”

And it turns out that adding things up in neat columns, making sense and order out of piles of donations, is enormously satisfying. Jill pauses in lifting a box of bagels off the scales to plant a kiss on Erin’s cheek.  
“You’re really workin’ that clipboard.”  
“Oh, stop.”

“Kev,” Holtzmann grunts a while later, struggling slightly with a heavy box, “ _how_ much pineapple did you say they gave us?”  
“Dunno, boss,” the big blond guy shrugs, lifting a larger box as though it’s nothing. “Lots?”  
“That’s forty pounds so far,” Erin glances up from the spreadsheet.  
“There’s definitely another box out there. Maybe two,” Kevin informs them, cheerfully.  
“Pff, that’s gonna make one heck of a fruit salad,” Jill sighs, with a tired smile.

Seeing the way she stretches out her shoulders, Erin imagines being brave enough to press her fingers into pale skin, to work at the tired muscles…and then realizes she’s made a basic arithmetical error.   
_Focus..._

They finish up not long after that; the donations sorted by destination and food type, the paperwork perfect, the scales wiped down and gleaming.

“Nice job,” Holtzmann grins, wiping her brow, and clapping Kev on the shoulder. “Team!”  
“TEAM!” Kevin echoes, pulling the girls into a huddle of three.  
Jostled amid the arms of warm people who like her, Erin has to grin.

\--

Erin’s chewing on her pencil, frowning over her latest assignment, when Holtz breezes into her room, guitar slung over her shoulder.

“Heeey. Sorry I’m late; the school had us play an extra song.”  
_Marie Curious_ had spent the afternoon at a local public school, playing for a Music class and answering their questions. Erin drops her pencil, glad of the excuse to shift focus. The paper isn’t due for ages, anyway.

“They must’ve liked you, then.”  
Jillian smirks, dumping her guitar in a corner and shrugging off her jacket.  
“Ehh, the teachers, maybe. I’m not so sure the kids were impressed.”  
“Half the girls were probably in love with you from the end of the first song.”  
“Speaking from experience, there, hot stuff?”

And that flusters Erin _completely_ , because the honest answer would be _yes_ , but they haven’t exactly talked about that, and anyway Holtzmann is obviously joking. She grins smugly at having rendered Erin speechless.

“Ignore me, Er – having you around’s made me big-headed, that’s all. Wooould it be alright if I used your shower? I’m kinda sweaty after today.”  
“Oh, of course.”  
She fetches Holtz a towel, gets a cheeky kiss in return, and points her towards the shower. Then she goes back to chewing her pencil, completely failing to keep her mind on her paper.

If she’s fighting a losing battle already, when Jill comes back freshly-showered with her hair falling damp and loose down her back…

“What?” she laughs, self-consciously.  
“Your hair…” Erin manages. “It’s gorgeous.”  
Jillian laughs again, running a hand through damp curls.  
“Thanks. It’s a nightmare to wash.”  
_I’ll help_ , Erin’s brain volunteers, and she has to bat away another mental image.

“So, Er…” she begins, sauntering towards her. “Wanna see if your beanbag fits on the fire escape? I’ll serenade you.”

Which is how they end up on the fire escape in the last of the day’s sun, Holtz cradling her guitar and strumming a rendition of ‘Moon River’. They’re awkwardly squished together on the beanbag, and the neck of the guitar extends into Erin’s space, but a little discomfort is worth it. Particularly when Holtz lets the guitar fall by the wayside and threads her fingers into Erin’s hair, bringing her close for a kiss.

Erin is burning up in the evening light, every light scratch of nails against her scalp igniting her all over again. And she’s inexperienced, but she can tell that Jillian’s holding back – letting her adjust. Which is lovely. But Erin can’t help wondering what it might be like if Jillian just let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a bit of an interlude-chapter, because their relationship has to sort of find its feet, but the rating is going to rise in the next chapter, just FYI.
> 
> Songs:  
> [There She Goes - Sixpence None The Richer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tMfXeuv4kZE)  
> [Moon River - Breakfast at Tiffany's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BOByH_iOn88)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno, guys. I'm just going to leave this here and hope you like it...?

Erin’s working on that paper again, but she still can’t focus, because it’s really not due for a week or so yet…and there are a few other things she’d rather think about.

Then her door bangs open and Holtz bursts in, the usual whirlwind of blonde curls and offbeat thrift store style.

“Hey, gorgeous! Can’t stay, on my way to band practice, but thought I’d just…”  
She’s stopped in her tracks, blinking at Erin.

“…You wear glasses?”  
“Oh, yes,” she nods, self-consciously touching the black frames. “Only sometimes.”

Holtzmann still hasn’t moved. She’s staring. Then she raises an eyebrow, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

“I _did_ tell you I have a thing for librarians, right?”

She’s sort of joking, but also sort of not, and all of a sudden Erin _needs_ to be doing something. She gets quickly to her feet and starts sorting through the notes on her desk, hoping she sounds cool and unflustered as she points out, “You know, plenty of librarians have perfectly good eyesight.”

It’s a feeble attempt, and certainly not enough to deter Holtzmann. She’s sauntering slyly across the room, her gaze unwavering.

“I’ve got a bit of a thing for pedants, too…”

Erin huffs a laugh and flushes, and turns around to find Jill very close – almost pinning her against the desk. She’s quite impressed that she manages a response of any kind, even if when she speaks her voice _is_ tellingly strained.  
“That bodes well for me, then.”

Holtz grins, and her fingers find Erin’s hips.  
“You’re so cute…”

Erin’s never been kissed like this before. Not that their previous kisses were unsatisfactory, in the slightest. But this is something else; Jill’s mouth is hot and insistent and much, much too good. The feel of her tongue makes Erin dizzy. Her hands are greedy, too, sliding from Erin’s hips to her waist and back again, only making her want more and sooner. When she suddenly pulls away, Erin makes a noise that could definitely be categorised as a whimper.

They’re still very close, Erin pressed up against the desk, and for a long moment neither says a word. They’re breathing hard and Jill’s chest is rising and falling beneath her shirt and _God_ Erin has never been so –

“I have to go to band practice.”

It seems like a non-sequitur until Erin’s brain unfogs a little, and then she’s not sure which one of them Holtz is trying to remind.

“You could come back, afterwards.”  
“It’ll be pretty late…”  
“Come back anyway?”  
Erin’s not even embarrassed by the note of breathless pleading in her voice.  
“And…stay the night?”

Holtzmann’s mouth falls open slightly, and she doesn’t say anything. Immediately Erin’s courage deserts her, and she wishes the floor would open and swallow her whole. Cringing, she adds,  
 “I mean, if you _want_ to, that is. I –”  
“Yes!” Holtz interrupts, quickly, a little too loud. “Yes. Very much absolutely yes.”

Erin’s never seen her blush like this. Her cheeks are scarlet. She removes her hands from Erin’s waist and shoves them in her own back pockets, as though to save herself from temptation.

“Right…” Holtz manages, walking slowly backwards, still holding Erin’s gaze. “I’m…gonna go now. And then I’m gonna come back.”

She almost trips over her guitar case but rights herself, slings it over her shoulder and practically runs out the door.

“Bye!”

As the door closes behind her, Erin sits down abruptly – weak knees no longer able to hold her up.

\--

Two interminable hours later, there’s a knock at Erin’s door. That’s unusual – by now Holtzmann tends to just breeze on in. But it is her. She’s almost shy, and Erin is struck anew by how _beautiful_ she is. She makes an attempt at ordinary conversation.

“How was practice?”  
“Couldn’t tell you.”  
“What?”

Holtzmann has put down her bag and stands up straight again, shoving her hands in her pockets.

“Well, Evie _says_ that I knocked over a music stand and kept missing my cues, but I can’t vouch for any of that – my mind was definitely elsewhere.”

A breathless laugh spills from Erin’s lips.  
“You’re ridiculous.”  
“Uhuh,” Holtz smirks, crossing the room to wrap her arms round Erin’s waist. “But you like me.”  
“I _really_ do.”

Holtz kisses her then, and it’s tender more than anything else, but it still makes Erin’s pulse pick up. Holtz is warm and solid and when they break apart, her thumb is gently brushing Erin’s cheek. That makes her brave enough to speak.

“So, you know that I…haven’t done this before, right?”  
Jill’s gaze is steady, and warm. “Yeah. And hey, I’m not exactly Casanova myself.”  
Erin gives her a look.  
“Experience-wise, I mean. I _will_ concede that I’m charming.”  
Erin huffs a laugh and smacks her on the shoulder, and Holtz grins. It’s getting hard to think over the ache in her body.

“Just…lead the way?”  
“Mmm,” Holtzmann smiles, leaning in to press a kiss just beneath Erin’s ear. “You betcha.”  
Erin’s breath hitches as Holtz’s fingers slip underneath the hem of her shirt. It’s barely anything, and yet it feels so good.  
“Anything you want…or don’t want…just say, alright?”  
“Mmhm.”

It’s not so much that Erin’s suddenly braver – it’s just that she can’t _not_ respond to Jillian’s touch. Her hands go to Jill’s waist, her neck, her hair – and that makes Jill’s hands bolder, in turn. When her fingers trail upwards to Erin’s breast, one or both of them gives a stifled groan.

“Okay?” Holtz breathes.  
“ _Yes_.”  
“Cool. One question… Would it seem unimaginative if I pressed you up against that desk again?”  
“Oh, God.”

In terms of logistics it works better, anyway. With Erin half-sitting on the desktop, Holtz can move in between her legs, fingers trailing up and down bare thighs. (Erin’s _so_ glad she changed into PJ shorts.)

“Can I take this off you?”  
She feels a wave of apprehension, but then the shirt’s over her head and tossed to the floor. She’s left in a black lacy bra – her best – and when Holtz whines involuntarily Erin has a momentary vision of how she must look, sitting on her desk in nothing but a bra and tiny plaid shorts. Then Holtz pulls her closer and starts lavishing the exposed skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses, and her thumbs tease Erin’s nipples through the lace. It’s overwhelming, it’s almost too much.

As best she can with her eyes shut, Erin tugs at the hem of Holtzmann’s shirt, and she draws back a little, panting.  
“Oh, yeah, right. Fair’s fair.”

Without ceremony she pulls the shirt over her head, mussing her already-wild hair. Erin knows she is staring, and frankly does not care. Without tearing her eyes from the vision before her, she says the first thing that comes into her head.  
“I’m definitely not straight.”  
Jill snorts, moving closer again. “Glad to hear it.”  
She stops laughing when Erin’s fingers skim her bra-clad breast.

Before too much longer Jill moves them to the bed.  While she slips out of her jeans, the (small) part of Erin’s brain that’s not incapacitated by lust observes that…what, two months ago?…she’d been alone and miserable, without anything much in her life. And now, Jillian Holtzmann is undressing for her, standing there in just a bra and boyshorts. It’s incredible. After a moment’s indecision she removes her bra as well, and Erin thinks she may have stopped breathing.

“Cat got your tongue, there, cutie?”  
Erin blushes. “I…I just…”

Holtz just smiles, and joins her on the inconveniently-small bed. She props herself up on one elbow, nestling into Erin’s side. Erin knows she should be nervous, but all her attention is taken up by the warmth of Holtz’s skin and the soft curve of her shoulder, and there isn’t much room to feel anything but bliss.

“I like this bra. Can we take it off, though?”

It’s quickly discarded, and Holtzmann groans at the sight of her.  
“ _Errinn_ … Can I…?”  
The question comes out breathless, and the moment Erin nods assent Jill cups her breast, palming the weight and brushing a thumb across the nipple. It makes Erin shudder, her breath coming in gasps. Then Jill lowers her mouth to the other breast, and when her lips close around a nipple Erin moans much louder than she meant to. Jill hums in response against her skin, moving half over her so that their legs are entwined. Then she shifts slightly, and for a moment Erin’s not sure why – till she feels a knee pressing firmly against her.  
“Oh, _fuck_.”  
“God, it’s hot when you swear.”  
She can hear the smile in Jillian’s voice.

Erin’s aware of her own inexperience. She’s in very, _very_ good hands, but she can’t help wishing she were a little braver. She doesn’t want Jill to feel neglected. So when she next pulls back, Erin slips a hand between them and lets her fingers trace the waistband of her underwear. Jill’s eyes widen, and her breath stutters.

Erin’s still shy, despite best efforts.  
“Can I…touch you?”  
Holtz swallows hard, and nods wordlessly. They shift a little so she’s on her back. As though it’s someone else’s hand, Erin watches her fingers trace the lines of Holtz’s boyshorts; following the curve of her hip to the edge, where fabric gives way to delectably soft thighs. She’s _so_ turned on it’s ridiculous. Holtz’s hips are beginning to twitch, and it’s some comfort to know that the feeling might be mutual. When her fingers stray to Jill’s inner thigh, she holds her breath for a moment before daring to touch her. The fabric’s soaked through, and Erin’s brain short-circuits.

It’s a second before she can form any words.  
“Wou…would you take these off?”  
“Yes ma’am.” Holtz’s voice cracks.

She stands up to remove them – there’s so little room on the bed – and Erin shamelessly takes in the sight of her. She hopes her eyes are saying what she simply can’t, because _you’re beautiful_ or _gorgeous_ or _impossibly sexy_ just couldn’t do Holtzmann justice.

Holtz sits down on the edge of the bed, apparently comfortable in her nakedness, and her fingers pause at the waistband of Erin’s shorts.  
“Can I help you with these?”

Erin lifts her hips, and together they push down her shorts and underwear at once. Holtzmann joins her on the bed again, pulls her close.  
“Kiss me?”

She’s so gentle; it makes something in Erin’s chest contract. She could kiss Jillian forever…except that she’s growing desperate for more. She’s drunk on the scent of warm skin and arousal and the taste of Jillian’s kiss, and when Jill’s fingers trail up her inner thigh her hips jolt with pleasure, not apprehension.

“ _Erin_ … Fuck, you feel so good.”

It doesn’t take long; Jill knows what she’s doing. Erin’s helpless beneath her fingers, and when she comes Jillian muffles her cry with a kiss.

They lie still then, Erin’s breath slowly calming. Jill is so tender, stroking her hair, her hip, her cheek.  
“You’re beautiful. Sorry, I kind of forgot to say that earlier,” she half-laughs, apologetic. “Was a little distracted.”  
“Can I distract you further?” Erin finds herself sounding coy and flirtatious, and dials it back at once. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but-”  
“But you’re a fast learner? Miss Gilbert, I’m all yours.”

Her touch is tenative at first, and Holtz is very patient, but Erin likes it best when she starts to lose control. She quakes and moans and bucks beneath her fingers, and Erin is entranced. Some part of her brain’s taking notes – she knows she could do better – but for now this seems to be enough.

When Jill speaks her voice is muffled by the arm across her face, and her tone is gently teasing.  
“‘ _If_ you _want_ to stay the night…’”  
Erin realizes she’s referring to her fumbled proposition hours earlier, and laughs.  
“Well, you weren’t saying anything.”  
“Erin, I wasn’t _breathing_.”

Jill grins at her across the pillow – and Erin suddenly sees the breathtaking lead singer she’d fallen so hard for that night in the dim college bar. How on earth had they gotten here?

Holtz’s thoughts seem to be running along similar lines.  
“Remember that time I spilled my drink down your shirt and you had a sexy bra on underneath and then I lent you my jacket so we’d have to see each other again?”  
“Hmm, nope,” Erin teases, “can’t recall. Because it definitely wasn’t a pivotal moment in my life, or anything.”

Jill kisses the smug smile from her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um, this was my first time writing smut... Any feedback would be really appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your responses to that last chapter! You guys are the best. <3
> 
> So, this is the final chapter. I don't wanna let them go, but this feels like the right place to end it.  
> FYI, this chapter actually involves a bit of angst. (Yes - angst, from me!) But as we've established, I'm _the_ most hopeless romantic - so naturally the angst is very short-lived. 
> 
> I hope you like it. Thank you so much for reading and commenting - this was just an idea I had one day while dancing round the kitchen, and it's not like anything I've written before, but I've enjoyed writing it so much! 
> 
> Let me know what you think of this final installment?
> 
> EDIT: I'm on tumblr! Come and say hi! (I'm wednesdaygilfillian)

Waking up with Jill is…well, Erin doesn’t really have words for it. She’s not a poet, after all. (Though sometimes, admiring tousled hair and pale shoulders in the light of early morning, Erin thinks perhaps she _could_ be.)

So she starts waking up with Jill more and more often – it’s not like they can really help themselves. Mostly they stay at Erin’s dorm, but (after fair warning that it’s not exactly the Ritz) they do sometimes sleep at the place Holtz shares with Evie, Jade and Megs.

The first time she stays there, Erin gets fully dressed to go into the kitchen in the morning – but Megs still shoots her a knowing smirk, nevertheless. So, the next morning, Erin steps out to make toast wearing just one of Jill’s oversized t-shirts – and this time both she _and_ Megs are smirking. Jade wolf whistles for good measure.

\--

Erin’s on the phone when Holtzmann sneaks into her room. She keeps politely quiet, seeing that Erin’s in the middle of something, but still comes up behind her and presses a quick kiss to the back of her neck. Erin hopes Jill won’t notice how rigid she is, how tense.

Of course she notices. But she doesn’t press it.

When the call ends, Erin sits down on the bed.  
“I have to go home for a few days. Just for a visit, to see my parents.”

She doesn’t say anything else; but then, she doesn’t have to. Holtzmann shuffles closer, takes her hand.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess that you’re not out to your parents?”  
Erin tries a laugh, but it sounds brittle, and Jill squeezes her hand.  
“And you know that’s okay – not telling them yet – right, Er?”  
This might be the most serious Jill has ever been; her blue eyes are piercing.  
“I mean, I _do_ personally like shouting it from these rooftops, but…rooftops in Michigan…I get it. First priority is that you’re comfortable, and safe.”

Erin really doesn’t mean to cry.

\--

A few days later Erin’s packing, when Holtz comes in, winding something in her hands.

“Hi, Jill.”  
“Hey, cutie. How’s the packing going?”  
“Oh, you know… I’ve packed all my most conservative cardigans.”  
Holtz tries a smile. “Well, hey, you’d look cute in full-on Puritan garb, so…”  
Erin smiles wanly, and drops another blouse into her suitcase.

“I, um, I’ve got something for you,” Holtz begins, fidgeting as she stands beside the bed. “It was funny actually, Megs’s little sister came to visit – just for the day, we wouldn’t subject her to our accommodations – and she’s obsessed with friendship bracelets, so we all had to help her make some. I’ve got, like, eight. But the one _I_ made, I thought I’d give to you.”

She holds out a handmade bracelet, woven in rainbow colors: green, yellow, orange, pink.

“Obviously you don’t have to wear it if you don’t like it or think it’s weird or if you think your Mom would notice, but if you _like_ it…and if those cardigans are as conservative as you say you could hide it under your sleeve, or-”  
“Jill? That’s…really sweet.” Erin holds her wrist out. “Help me put it on?”  
Jill’s smile is sheepish, which only makes Erin’s heart swell even more.

“I might be able to call you,” Erin suggests, watching Holtz’s fingers tying a knot at her wrist, “if I find a moment and things are going okay. I could tell Mom we’re working on a group project.”  
“I’d pair up with you _anytime_ ,” Jill winks – and it’s feeble maybe, but it’s what they need to diffuse the tension in the air.

\--

As the bus takes her further and further from the city, Erin can feel the way she’s shrinking into herself. Into the self she used to be. Her cardigan-clad shoulders are tensing.

By the time she arrives she’s exhausted, and her Dad’s there to pick her up. He’s no different, unless his hair is a little grayer. At least since he’s the quiet type she hardly needs to perform – a perfunctory hug, then into the car and off home. ‘Home’.

Her mother is different – her mother is questions, tallies and checklists, expectations. The first night, Erin says she’s tired and goes to bed, in her old room.

Avoidance can’t work forever, though. The inevitable conversations still occur; at least the one about Erin’s grades goes down easy.

“And have you found a nice young man yet?”

 _Yet_ , because she’s been at college for three years now. _Lagging behind schedule there, Erin – ruining the checklist._

“Oh, not really. You know, I’m busy with schoolwork and stuff.”  
“Perhaps you should get out more. Your grades can certainly afford it.”

Erin’s staring at the table, but not seeing it – a series of images flash across her mind.

Holtzmann onstage, that first night in the bar. Holtzmann laughing at a table full of friends. Holtzmann handing her a mix tape.  
Kissing her on the dancefloor. Kissing her everywhere, on the flimsiest excuse.

It hits her how much her life’s changed, since that night she decided to get out for once, and go hear a band.

\--

She doesn’t phone Holtzmann. She can’t. She’s sure that if she hears her voice, or has to say _Jill_ or _Holtz_ or _Jillian_ , the tenuous barrier between her college reality and this one will shatter, and everything will come pouring out. In front of her parents, her parents’ friends.

It’s not like she _promised_ to call… She hopes Holtz will understand.

She never takes the bracelet off her wrist.

\--

Even purgatory can’t last forever, and at last Erin’s climbing back onto the bus. She’s too drained to feel more than the dullest relief, and she sleeps most of the way. When she wakes, drowsy, to find herself in the city, it feels like another planet – one much more hospitable to life.

She’s wheeling her suitcase, walking in a daze, when someone calls her name. She spins around.

“Oh, Evie, hi. Great to see you.”

It really is. Erin manages a smile, and it’s sincere.

“You too! Do me a favour, though – find Holtz, kiss her senseless, and cure her of Vitamin-Erin Deficiency or whatever it is that’s had her moping round the place all weekend. It’s been rough.”

Erin’s heart clenches, and she’s both moved that Holtz missed her _and_ afraid that something’s wrong. She gives Evie an apologetic smile.  
“I will. I’ll do that. Bye!”

She heads to her dorm with a quickened step, pulling her suitcase behind her. When her door swings open she sighs to see the familiar room; dark and a few days unlived-in, but still there, and the scene of her truest, happiest times.

She dumps her suitcase by the wardrobe, undresses and goes straight to the shower to wash pretence and travel off her skin. When she steps back into her room a while later, damp-haired and wrapped in her robe, she finds Holtzmann sitting on her bed – with a bunch of cheap, bright, cellophane-wrapped flowers in her hands.

“Jill…”

She stands up immediately and crosses the room in two steps, pulling Erin into an embrace. The relief is intense; Erin’s throat feels like broken glass, and her closed eyes burn. Jill is _real_ and warm and holding her so tight. Then she lifts her off her feet for a moment, and Erin squeaks. Holtz chuckles softly into her hair.

They pull back, and Erin glances at the flowers in Holtz’s hands.  
“Flowers?”  
“Yeah, I dunno, I thought-”  
“Holtz, I love them.”  
_I love you._

She kisses her full on the mouth, unreservedly, and when she pulls back Holtz looks both surprised and pleased. There’s no sign on her face that she, too, has been having a rough time; she shows only hopefulness, and attentive concern.

“How are you, Er?”  
“I’m…okay. So much better now, for seeing you. It was, just, you know…what I expected.”  
Holtz nods, watching as Erin finds a vase for the flowers. Once they’re sorted, she turns back to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I just…couldn’t. I would’ve started crying.”  
“I don’t want you to cry.”  
“And I don’t want _you_ to think that I’m not serious, or that I didn’t think of you _all the time_ , or…”

Jill crosses the room to her again, putting a hand up to Erin’s cheek.  
“Er, don’t worry, please. Just…”

She kisses her, and it’s soft and slow and sweet.

“So,” Jillian smiles, clearing her throat a moment later, “I’m guessing the plan is a quiet night in?”  
Erin groans in bliss at the thought of lazing around doing nothing with Jill.

“That sounds incredible. And actually, the bright side of this trip,” she moves to unzip her suitcase, “I _did_ smuggle out my old copy of ‘The Princess Bride’.”  
Holtz’s face lights up, and she fist pumps enthusiastically.  
“You have such good taste! In films, as well as girlfriends. I’ll set it up, babe – you just sit back and relax.”

Erin changes from her robe into an old baggy t-shirt – one she’d stolen from Holtz – and soon they’re sitting up in bed watching the movie. Holtz puts an arm round her shoulder, and Erin finds comfort everywhere they touch. She _would_ snuggle closer, except that their shoulders keep shaking with laughter – and it turns out that Holtzmann can do _all_ the voices. The more Erin laughs, the more Holtz hams it up for her amusement.

By the time Inigo and Fezzik are taking Westley to see Miracle Max, Erin’s chest feels like it might actually burst with fondness.

 _“Get back, witch!”_  
“‘I’m not a witch, I’m your wife!’”

“I love you.”  
Erin didn’t quite mean to say that – but she doesn’t regret it either.

Holtz’s head snaps round to look at her – her expression stunned. Then all at once she’s kissing Erin, hard, both hands in her hair. Erin kisses her back and fights the urge to cry because this is not sad, this is the opposite of sad.

When the kiss breaks, Jill’s still holding her face and she’s sincere and fervent and _beautiful_.

“I love _you_ , Erin. Really. So much.”

Words fail them both, so they kiss again, and Erin’s getting lost in it – but in the background Miracle Max’s wife is yelling _“Humperdinck, Humperdinck, Humperdinck!”_ and Holtz starts laughing into her mouth, and it’s absolute joy.

\--

It’s nine o’clock and Erin’s back in that same old college bar. It’s no different than it was a few months ago; dim lighting, sticky floor, student bands onstage. There’s a sweet feeling of déjà vu every time she comes in here, now.

 _Marie Curious_ are up next, so Erin has time to get herself a drink before heading closer to the stage. The crowd applaud when they come onstage and go straight into one of their old favorite covers. It’s one of the first songs she ever heard Holtz sing, and each chord does something different to her chest.

Holtzmann is radiant tonight; irresistible. The lights glow off her makeup, her outfit, her hair, and she grins into the mic as she sings.

Mid-song she spots Erin in the audience, and shoots her a wink. Erin’s stomach flips, even now.

There’s a squeal behind her, from a group of freshmen girls.

“Oh my God, she winked at me!”  
“She did _not_ wink at you, you dork. That’s her girlfriend right in front of us. I saw them together at the gig on Friday.”  
“Thanks, Stace. Way to crush my dreams.”

Erin’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, and there’s an almost unbearable lightness in her chest.

\--

It’s late – or possibly it’s early – and they’re all on the dance floor at that club. The one where Holtz first kissed her, forever ago. The DJ’s playing an upbeat, sexy, silly Ricky Martin song, and no one has too much dignity to get into it. Evie and Jade are giving it their all, and Megs is dancing a flamboyant parody of the cha-cha with a sculpted young man in sequinned shorts. Jill’s hair is coming slowly undone and she’s grinning and she’s out of breath. And that’s before the chorus hits.

_She bangs, she bangs  
Oh baby when she moves, she moves_

Erin raises her arms above her head, dancing like she never would have dared to in the past. Holtz does a double-take, giving her a look of definite interest and moving closer.

_I’m wasted by the way she moves, she moves  
No one ever looked so fine_

Jill looks her up and down, apparently impressed.  
“Come here often?”  
Rolling her eyes and laughing, Erin grabs her shirt and pulls her close.

The whole dance floor sings/shouts along, Holtz looking at Erin like she means every word of the ludicrous lyrics. It’s loud and it’s crowded, but Jill’s hands are on her hips, and Erin has never felt more at ease in her own skin.

Later, they will be quiet and still. But, for now, the night is young.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:  
> [She Bangs - Ricky Martin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CsF_lqnALQw)
> 
> (Please excuse the song choice: I wanted Erin to let loose and dance. And hey, I never told you I was classy.)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think?


End file.
